The youngest oldest professor
by Yandere Kirkland chan
Summary: Voldemort is back and England can feel the affects of it. Unable to kill the man because of the prophecy but not willing to sit back and take it, England goes to Hogwarts as a professor in the hopes to aid Harry in Voldemort's defeat. But with the ministry at his tail and some suspicious professors and students, can England protect his identity? hetalia Harry Potter crossover
1. Chapter 1

**THE YOUNGEST OLDEST PROFESSOR**

CHAPTER ONE: BLOOD AND JOB APPLICATIONS

 **A/N: Yes, I know, I've got a bloody thousand fanfictions I haven't finished yet. And I do intend to get back to them. I just currently want to concentrate all of my time into writing one, good, long fanfiction that I really enjoy writing and here it is. This is my first crossover so I don't really know how it's going to go but I'll try my best. Anyways: Enjoy :3**

The large Manor House at the edge of London, where the city gave way to rolling fields and countryside, was a mystery. Such a sight was not that peculiar in the Isle of Britain but what made it different was the sheer size of it. What a passer by wouldn't know is that the house was far larger even than how it appeared, the rooms extending deep into the ground and the interior far larger than the exterior. As if by magic. It would take one years to travel through the whole thing and the house was inescapable if you happened to get lost.

Of course for a house of such magnitude you would expect a rather large family to live there along with several servants, maids, butlers, a gardener, cleaners: just a general bundle of staff to help around and about. But what was possibly even more peculiar than the size of the house was the fact that only one man lived within it. Now it wasn't an old, greying man that you may expect to live alone in such an old house but it was a young man who looked to be about twenty three years old, barely out of the clutches of adolescent and puberty. What such a man was doing all alone up there was beyond anyone's knowledge in the surrounding areas.

Since the man lived alone there was no one there to hear his screams. Arthur Kirkland, for that was the man's name, thrashed in his bed. It almost seemed as if he was having a bad dream, and in some ways he was. But this 'dream' wasn't an element of his imagination, it was real. What was really happening to real people. His people. Because what his neighbours didn't know was that this man was England.

England let out a scream of agony, clutching his chest as blood splattered his bed sheets. When an attack took place it was always his lungs that were first to give out, lungs were such delicate things. He coughed fitfully, each one giving his blanket a new coating of red. Normally a few of his citizens' deaths would hurt him, yes, but he wouldn't be damaged so dreadfully. But this was no ordinary attack. No, it was magic.

After several more minutes of thrashing, coughing and screaming England say bolt upright in his bed, gasping desperately for breath. He sat stiffly like that for a moment before breaking the ringing silence "H-he's back." He whispered to himself, his eyes wide with terror. He then curled up into a ball, the blanket pulled firmly around him like a forcefield as he rocked back and forth "He's back, he's back, he's back." Arthur whispered to himself repeatedly, indulged in horror.

After recovering England shook his head firmly, scowling to himself. He looked out the window and the darkness of the four AM hour. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep so he made his way to his kitchen, a single blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Even though it was the middle of August the summer had decided it didn't want to make an appearance, leaving the island chilly and grey.

England filled the kettle and flicked it on, getting a large mug out from the cupboard and a bag of earl grey. He then filled the cup, the teabag inside, and added sugar and milk. He took the mug and a whole packet of chocolate hobnobs with him as he settled on the worn looking sofa-rocking chair that he favoured.

Sipping his tea and dunking the biscuits England contemplated what he should do. The visions he'd had were proof that Voldemort was back. But what to do? As a country he had the ability to crush the dark wizard out of existence without any effort at all. But unfortunately he wasn't allowed to do that, which was a shame really. He had to stand back and let everything take its course. It was infuriating.

Arthur pursed his lips in thought. Well… he couldn't literally destroy Voldemort's being without there being shock waves in time (damn that cursed prophecy restricting him). Oh yes, he knew all about the prophecy. How could he not? He was England after all. Anyway he couldn't directly kill Voldemort… but that left the indirect which was a rather large window. He smirked as a plan formed in his head. "Well then, looks like I am going to Hogwarts."

 _Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

 _It would be my greatest pleasure if you would consider me for the a possible candidate for the role of_

England paused in thought. What should he apply for? Assistant professor! Yes. The more he thought about it the more perfect he decided it would be. For starters he knew for a fact that the job had not been filled for centuries therefore it was bound to be open for him. As well as this it would allow him to travel freely around the school and he wouldn't be stuck with specific class work he had no interest in focussing on. He would also probably be looked down upon by a lot of people and throughout his long existence he had learnt something: underestimation is key.

 _Assistant professor for the coming year. I assure you I am fully qualified for the job having received the highest education the magic community can provide and getting full marks in all my formal and informal examinations. Find enclosed with this letter my various qualifications and education details. If you require any other information from me I will gladly send it and I would be more than happy to attend any physical interviews. Thank you for your time._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Arthur Oliver Kirkland_

Done. It was short, aye, but to the point. England took the lit candle from his desk and blew out the flame then pressed an edge of it to the letter, which he'd folded closed, the royal velvet-red wax dripped to form a pool on the letter. England then picked up a metal forged stamp and pressed it firmly onto the cooling wax. He pulled it away to reveal the Kirkland family's floral coat of arms **(A/N: a rose, thistle, daffodil and shamrock incase you were wondering)**. He blew it once before setting it aside to dry.

Arthur sighed ran a hand over his face. As much as he hated to admit it Voldemort's attacks were really draining him. He winced, if he didn't do something soon then it was just going to get a whole lot worse. England sighed again, he didn't think he'd be able to handle going through that again. He eyed the drying sealed parchment, that was his hope. What if Albus refused to give him the job? It always aggravated him when his own people got in his way. But he doubted Albus would, he'd been rather fond of the chap ever since he was little, even if his morals were corrupt once in a while. And besides, a letter from a wizard whom no one was heard of from a pureblood family that time has forgotten? Applying for assistant professor even though he had the grades to be any position he wanted? From what England knew of Albus he would not turn him away so easily, at least not without giving this 'mystery' a good job at cracking first.

Deciding that the wax had dried enough England took the parchment in hand and walked to the window, which opened itself at Arthur's approach. England looked out of the window and instantly a sleek black owl flew to perch on his finger, its eyes an electric blue. Never mind that this owl did not fit the description of any known owl type, or any species at that. The very lands it's self required it's presence therefore it was there, no questions to be asked. If the owl was in any way alarmed by its sudden coming into existence then it didn't show it, only looking expectantly up at England.

The said man chuckled and rubbed the owl under its head fondly "Hello old girl, will you deliver this letter for me? To the head master of Hogwarts." Upon hearing the bird's coo of assent he fastened the letter to the bird's leg then nodded its permission to leave. At England's nod the owl took a great swoop, cutting through the air in close resemblance to a Celtic arrow. Arthur watched the bird go with a small smile as he pulled the window closed.

England walked to his living room and turned the T.V. on, flicking it to the news channel reluctant to what he might find. And as expected the head lines were littered with unexplained deaths-it seemed as it hundreds of English citizens had just decided to drop dead. England let out a tortured sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. All he felt like doing was resuming his sleep, yet he knew indulging in such a thing would be insensible seen as it was now fast approaching eight am. But what were social standards when there was no one to observe you? He could easily sleep all day and sit doing paperwork at night, it's not like anyone would know or care. But for once today that wasn't the case for it was that time again in which he was forced to sit through hours on end of purposeless arguments and being stuck in a room of people whom hated him, with no means to escape. Yes, it was a world meeting. Fortunately it was held in his own country, hardly enough to make things good but at least it was tolerable this way.

England was rather tempted to skip the meeting all together before deciding that it would cause more hassle than it was worth. Honestly, when he was there he was overlooked and blatantly ignored yet the moment he tries to leave suddenly everyone notices and screams bloody murder over it! No, he would have to go.

He sighed yet again, turning the news off. He was depressed enough over it as it was. England then got up and went to get ready. After dressing he looked in the mirror and noticed, to his distaste, how sickly and pale he looked. He rubbed his face several times as he used a concealing spell then looked at himself again. Still pale and slightly sickly, but less alarmingly so. Hopefully no magic acknowledging nations would look at him for too long or they'd be able to see through his spell. Looking himself over one last time England nodded in approval and took a quick stride out of the door, opting to walk to the meeting place since he lived not to far from that area of London. Besides, the fresh air would do him good.

An hours walk/a severe drenching later England arrived at the meeting hall. He rather thought that the location in England was the finest out of all of the countries' but that was just his opinion. It had rained as he walked, his soaked trench-coat being evidence of that, but he hadn't minded it. The rain was refreshing and it helped minimise the head ache and fever caused by the morning's events. However he had no doubt the head ache would soon be returning.

The Englishman slung his coat over the back of his chair and organised his notes neatly as he waited for the other nations to arrive, enjoying the peace and quiet he currently had. Somehow knowing you were on the verge of chaos helped the solitude become less lonely and more blissful. As nations slowly filed in every ten minutes or so Arthur found himself not minding. It was like dipping your feet into a pool, different but pleasant.

"STAY CALM EVERYONE THE HERO HAS ARRIVED!" …and that was like being chucked head first into the deep end. England felt his eye twitch as his nerves pulsated, already having given up. England tried not to make eye contact as he saw the yank looking for a seat. As he felt sky blue eyes fixate on the empty chair next to him then, in turn, he himself, England stiffened, trying not to move. Maybe if he didn't move the teen would go away…?

"Heya there Iggy, whassup?" Oh boy. England could sense the ear to ear grin even without looking at the approaching boy. A loud thud indicated the American claiming the chair. "Hey, dude, I asked you a question, how've ya been? I haven't seen you for AGES! You should totally get a mobile or something, then I'd be able to call you!" England took a deep breath and let it out, it would do him no good if he lost his temper already "America I do have a mobile and I give my number to you every. Single. Meeting!" That was met by an obnoxious laugh "Silly! What do you do to break your phone in between every meeting? You really are such a klutz!" England let his head fall back, resisting the urge to pull his dagger and stab someone. He didn't care whether it was him or America, either way he won. "First of all, I've had the same eyePhone0X for the last year. Second of all what the bloody hell is a klutz? Can you just bloody declare American as another language already? It'd be less painful!" "Dude, like eyePhone0X as in that British hacker phone that you insane limeys came up with that basically pirates everything off everyone in the world at one touch?" He frowned, met by a grin from the Englishman "Yeah that one."

A startled yelp from England cut off any reply America may have made. England was twitching menacingly as a peach-cream coloured hand intrusively cupped an area that England was really not comfortable with anyone touching. "France. Get. Off." England said, his tone of voice clearly displaying an internal desire for blood. He was met by an, in his opinion, extremely annoying laugh "Ah but Angleterre, your beautiful form is so enticing I cannot help myself. You cannot possibly be mad at me for being a man, can you?" The aura radiating off England wiped the smile off the man's face. "Francis if you don't get your hand off my cock right now I will fucking surgically remove it along with your balls." The Frenchman helped and instantly let go of England as if he had just burnt him.

Now finally able to relax England looked up to see that the table had been filled with people, as nations took their respective seats. England sighed, rearranging his notes and straightening his trousers (which had been ruffled by a certain Frenchman).

As the meeting started, England faced the speaker attentively who was, at that moment,

Germany. Arthur had his eyes wide and his pen hovering readily over his notebook, completely intent to watch the meeting's goings on as well as he could and try to squeeze as much usefulness out of the pathetic waist of time as he could. However, he soon found his concentration fading, which he found odd. Normally England could last much longer, it could scarcely have been a dozen minutes yet.

Even so, he found his eyelids drooping, though he would not let them close, and he fixated his gaze unseeingly at the blank wall, his eyes lidded. His mind was blank and thoughtless, his body overrun with the odd feeling that was filling him. The meeting room faded out of focus as his eyes and ears stopped registering his surroundings.

England frowned. It was an odd feeling. It filled his stomach and chest, spreading throughout his body. He even felt it in the very tips of his fingers and toes. His joints throbbed with an annoying pain, and he felt all the energy leave his body. The feeling wasn't exactly bad, just uncomfortable. With a convulsion of his body, that brought burning liquid to the back of his throats and set fire to his body with shocks of pain. Nope. It was definitely not bad. It was bloody horrible. England barely stifled a cry of pain but a small whimper escaped his throat despite his best efforts.

"-gland? England!" And angry shouting snapped his attention, he looked up instantly to see what this was about, trying to subtlety rub his chest to somehow lessen the pain. His gaze was met by seemingly the whole contents of the meeting room, staring back at him. "Wha-?" He managed to get out, his voice hoarse from his bout of sickness. Germany scowled at him, seemingly not impressed "It is your turn to share your opinions on the given political matters. Have you even been paying attention at all today? Even America has been making a note or two around his doodles." England blinked, his brain foggy. Political opinion…? Oh that's right. He was in a meeting. Meeting…

A raw sounding, hacking cough wracked his body, blocking any reply he would have had. "Ve~ Mr England, are you alright?" A concerned looking Italy asked from Germany's side. England opened his mouth to reply that he was 'quite alright' and that it was 'just the blasted flu' but a gurgle of blood spotted from his mouth as a horrible feeling filled his gut and stomach, his lungs burning. There were several cries of surprise and Arthur felt several hands grab him, shake him, hold him to their chest. If he had been able to comprehend the sounds he would have heard people asking if he was okay, what was happening, what could they do to help and the likes.

But England didn't hear it. All he heard was the screams of the attack victims as they were brutally killed or tortured. And always, always that horrible green light. It burnt. Why wouldn't the burning stop? He couldn't take the pain!

As England was inflicted with these horrible visions the meeting room assented into panic. Because as the attacks got worse so did England's state. He was no longer sitting rigidly, looking deathly pale, but now he was coughing fitfully as if he was trying to exhale his lungs and between each hacking cough blood spurted freely. And then there was the screaming, getting more desperate as his body spasmed with pain.

"Merde!" France cursed, catching England before he fell and slowly lowered him to the floor before he hurt himself. As England thrashed on the floor America held him firmly to make sure he didn't shatter his legs by kicking something, his eyes were wide with horror. Canada ran from where he had been sitting to aid his twin "Sit upright behind him and hold him to your chest, leaning slightly forwards. That'll make sure he doesn't choke on the blood." He turned to the other alarmed countries that had formed a ring around them "You lot go back to the meeting table and try to work out why this is happening, we will try to check where the blood has come from in his body and work on helping him." The nations nodded and went to it, if they were surprised at Canada's sudden take in lead they didn't say anything.

Matthew took a ragged breath, raking a hand through his hair as he looked at his carer in distress. He then looked up at America, scared and confused blue eyes mirroring his own, he gave him an encouraging smile before instructing him "Continue to hold him like that, if you notice him choking or making any gasping noises tell me. France can you push gently on areas of his body, starting from his pelvis moving all the way up to his throat? I want to check where exactly the blood is coming from that'll help us know how severe this is and what we can expect to happen and do to help."

In the mean time the other nations sat at the table, trying to ignore the other four on the floor, as they put their brains together to work out what could have caused this. "His economy isn't struggling, there haven't been any money issues, no scandals, people seem to be doing okay, no rebellions or riots, no terrorist attacks or anything or the sorts I can see, strictly speaking he should be completely fine!" Germany said, reading the current facts and statistics about England.

"Could it be damage to his body not his landmass?" China suggested. Spain shook his head "I don't think that would effect him this badly, well it could but I cannot think of what he would have done to cause it."

Germany' brow furrowed "Has anyone seen this happen to him, or anyone before?" Norway shifted slightly, a look of unease crossing him "What is it Norway san?" Japan inquired, noticing his behaviour. Norway sighed "It's nothing. It can't be it, this just all made me think of something that's all." "Just tell us," Germany urged "It may not be related but it could get us thinking."

Norway locked his jaw before sighing again and complying "Alright. You'll all laugh anyway. As you may or may not know about 15 years ago there was a massive attack on the British magical community. The mass murderer and general psychopath self named 'Voldemort' wanted to kill everyone who wasn't just how he wanted, wanted to rule the world, have power, immortality and all that basic shit. As you all know having loads of your people murdered in cold blood fucks you up pretty bad, well it's way worse when they are killed with magic. Back then this is what England looked like at first, before things got bad. Anyway, like I said, that can't be it, Voldemort died ages ago, a spell of his ricocheted. But you asked me to say, and I did."

There was a silence as the room processed this new information. "Dude magic doesn't exist! How could people be killed with something non existent?" America laughed off the theory before getting back to concentrate on England at an annoyed 'tsk' from Canada, who was apparently extremely controlling when caring for a patient. "That's big scale stuff you're talking about Norway, how could all that happen without us noticing? We may not always ask how each others days are but that doesn't mean we are blind." Other general complaints and disagreements with Norway's speech could be heard.

The platinum blonde rolled his eyes "I did say that couldn't be what's happening now! So what does it matter? You made me say it! If you didn't want to listen don't ask me to speak." Romania frowned "Hey, Voldemort's attacks is not something to be laughed about! It was so severe all your magic communities must have gotten affected by the shock waves, just imagine what poor England must have felt like! And now you all laugh off his pain?"

Canada huffed slightly at them all from where he was tending to England. If that lot stopped fighting and arguing for once in their life they may actually get something productive done. He thought that since this was a rather urgent matter they make take it more seriously, but apparently not.

Concentrating once again on England, Canada frowned in concern "Thanks France." He muttered once the said nation had finished doing what he had asked him to. He didn't like the results. From what they had done he discovered that the blood was coming from his lungs mainly but different sections of his abdomen were leaking blood too, though less so. The blood was thick and a bright red, indicating that it was coming from an extremely fresh 'wound' and were from a more vital section of the body. He sighed rubbing England's hand softly "It's petty had. Looks like we should call an amb-"

Canada was cut off by a gasp from beneath him, he looked down to find England wide eyed and gasping for breath "England? Shit, are you okay? Crap, bad question okay um just stay calm everything's going to be fine." Noticing that he was choking Canada emptied England's mouth of the blood that was blocking his wind pipe.

Once the flash back had stopped, England instantly latched onto Canada's front gasping and panting "M-make him stop, make him s-stop, please please make him stop!" England groaned huskily, his mind still stuck in a flashback. Matthew held him tightly, stroking his hair soothingly "Shh shh what's wrong? Stop who?" England just shook his head and buried his face in Canada's chest as he calmed down from the horrific events.

Once he had regained his right mind his cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment. He recoiled from everyone around him "Ah terribly sorry dear boy. I'll be on my way before I cause any more trouble. Well cheerio."

By the time anyone had processed what had just happened all that was left behind of the Englishman was the pool of blood and the still swinging door.

England let out a shaky sigh. That hadn't been good. Now that he was away from all those curious eyes he could finally let down his mask. He really had been shaken by that. Who wouldn't? He had just had a vision of his own people being murdered that rendered him practically unconscious and hacking up blood in front of an entire meeting room of nations who had absolutely no idea what was happening to him and most didn't even accept the existence of magic!

He rubbed his chest. That'd hurt. But he'd have taken far worse pain if it would mean those poor, innocent people would be still alive. England sighed, he was not going to hear the end of this. Leaving in the middle of a meeting right after causing such a scene? Why it was unheard of! The chatter about it may even reach his big brothers… no he didn't want to think about that, he had enough problems as it was!

Pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to take the head ache that was a plaguing him, England slowly ambled home. He was extremely grateful once again that the meeting was being held in his house, if he'd have to endure traveling in his painful state then he would probably do something uncouth like complain about his life to a stranger or fall asleep behind a dump or throw up in the middle of the street.

Arriving home, sighing, England collapsed onto the sofa, groaning as he rubbed his chest. How embarrassing that was. He popped the kettle on and made a tea to sooth his nerves and calm his insides. The pain was quick fading and after not too long he was sitting in a comfortable silence.

A tapping on the window made England start, and he looked up to see what was the cause. He was treated with the sight of the black owl he had sent to Hogwarts earlier, a letter inclosed within its beak. Hm… that's another way to get into Hogwarts, train yourself to be an owl animagus and no one will look at you twice. It was worrisome how many ways there were to breech the theoretically impenetrable grounds of Hogwarts.

Pushing those thoughts aside, England quickly went to open the window for the bird who gratefully hopped inside, dropping the letter into Arthur's extended hand "Thank you ever so much." England beamed at the bird who, after deciding it was no longer needed, flew out the window and once again ceased to exist.

England turned his gaze to the parchment, it was closed with the Hogwarts shield indented into white wax. Arthur supposed that using red, the general letter wax colour, would cause problems as it could be seen to be favouring Gryffindor. The nation shook his head with a chuckle, really the petty squabbling Hogwarts had amounted to via this whole house system was laughable. In his opinion it caused more problems than it solved. But he had to admit he did love it. The pride and competition and spirit amongst those you could relate to was positively charming.

He peeled open the letter and began to read:

 _Dear Mr A. Kirkland,_

 _Thank you for your letter. I am glad to inform you that the role of assistant professor is currently vacant. Your qualifications are remarkable and I dare say you will find obtaining this post easy. However, before I give you the job I must insist in meeting you in person. I imply nothing against you, it is merely a formality. As I am sure you can understand I, as head master, must be convinced of the character of those I let onto the school grounds, for the safety of the students I am entrusted in caring for. And as you will know, these are trying times therefore one must be especially cautious. As well as this I find meeting you in person will help me understand whether you will be capable of meeting the requirements of the job, though I have no doubt you will._

 _I will not ask of you the effort to return a letter with a response on whether you will be_

 _able to attend such a meeting. At any day for the next fortnight, from one till four in the afternoon, I shall be in my office available for an interview. Apparate on the day and time that is most convenient for you, holding this letter in hand, focussing on the emblem and it will take you safely to your destination. However, I must warn you that this will only work for one trip and only within the time I have specified._

 _If you choose to attend this meeting, I look forward to seeing you in person, Mr_

 _Kirkland, and hopefully, if all goes well, at the school in the new school year._

 _~Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts headmaster_

Arthur smirked slightly at the subtle accusations of him being a death eater or the likes. He had no doubt that, with the secretiveness that he would require in hiding the fact that he was a nation, several people would jump to the conclusion that he was a death eater, especially with the recent return of Voldemort.

England checked over the times and decided to go to Dumbledore tomorrow at two. Any time would be appropriate as he had no intention of meeting with any of the other nations so recently after the events of the meeting that day. But going early would get things over and done with and he could start getting ready for his new teaching role. Which may be quite a task. With him being the only assistant professor there he would be quite worked.

The role basically entailed that he would help any of the professors in any way they asked of him (within reason that is) and he would fill in for any that were vacant. He would also be working closely with the caretaker and helping him or her (it had been rather a while since he last knew the caretaker of Hogwarts so he doubted Gillian Doydrei was still working there or, in fact, alive at all) with whatever they needed. Basically he was general help for anyone who wanted it. Which didn't exactly narrow down his shopping list.

America pouted, looking genuinely concerned "Dude, what the hell happened back there? I've haven't seen Iggy hurt like that since the blitz!" Canada sighed, putting a comforting hand on his twin's shoulder "Alfred, I really don't know."

The American looked deep in thought "Hm clearly his land hasn't been damaged or his people. I can't think of how he could have been affected like this unless…" America's eyes widened in shock and a feeling of dread filled Canada "Alfred, not again. No!" The other nation took no notice of him, instead getting to his feet "The aliens have him!" Canada groaned "America, you're insane." But the said nation didn't listen, too preoccupied by muttering to himself about this so called alien attack.

"Oh gosh, America this wasn't an alien invasion! There was probably some bank problem or bad accident on a motor way or something." Canada argued, ignoring the fact that these things wouldn't have caused a nation to be affected so dramatically. "Bro, I don't have time for your logical reasoning. This is bigger than just England, if this is aliens then the whole world is at risk! We have to act fast!"

Canada sighed, there was no reasoning with his brother when he had become this obsessed with an idea "Yes, Alfred, sure. But, uh, maybe we shouldn't be so hasty? Let's wait for the next world meeting to see if England is okay then, and we can also gather more people to, uh, save the world from aliens. And in the mean time we can research. So let's not barge into England's house uninvited screaming about aliens quite yet, eh?" America looked at him for a second, distrustingly before shrugging "Sounds okay. We really should get our numbers up and inside knowledge before declaring it war against these aliens!"

"DECLARING WAR?!"

 **A/N: First chapter finished! Did you guys like it? I really hope you did. Follow, favourite and review if you liked it and want to come with me on this journey of whatever the fuck this turns out as. And most importantly, if you are reading this then you have actually gotten through all that torture without stopping reading so thank you very much I really appreciate it! Until next time (whenever the hell that is) Bye XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**THE YOUNGEST OLDEST PROFESSOR**

CHAPTER TWO: VAULT ZERO

 **A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm so flattered that so many people actually read this story and favourited, followed and reviewed. Because so many people did I tried to write this new chapter as fast as I could! I have some news in the author notes at the end of the chapter and I would appreciate it if you read that. But you probably want me to shut up now so let's get to the stuff you actually came for! Enjoy :3**

Albus Dumbledore peered over his half moon spectacles, inspecting the man sitting in front of him. He was young. That's the first thing that anyone would notice. He looked the age to have only just left school himself. Yet his eyes held a seriousness and maturity that was rare to find in youth. In fact, many things about the young man were rather scarcely found. For example, he sat in front of one of the wizarding worlds' most feared and looked up to wizards and he looked him squarely in the eyes. This could just be brushed off as ignorance but this man looked anything but that.

Another thing was his impressive mental defences. One of the reasons why Dumbledore had suggested meeting him in person was so he could look into his mind, as a precaution of course. He couldn't let just anyone onto his school grounds. Well, that is, he couldn't let anyone he wasn't aware of onto the school grounds. Albus had tried to access the boy's thoughts, not expecting any struggle or problem, but he had been unable to. Of course this was surprising, but not unheard of. Young wizards could unknowingly develop surprisingly good defences because of traumatic experiences, abuse or even just bullying.

All plausible, Dumbledore just assumed he would have to try a little harder to look into the peculiar man's mind. But he tried using more magic and even techniques to try to make the man relax, yet to no avail. Until it got to the point that if he pushed more surely such a young mind could be grievously wounded, and he would not do that just to appease his own curiosity, he had the whole school year to do that at the very least. Yes, he had decided to accept this mysterious boy's job application.

Just as he had been about to give up and concentrate on the verbal interview, the boy's mental barriers gave in. Blast all, I think I left the back door open. Hm, I really do hope I get this job, those student loans won't pay themselves! Dumbledore looked the man in the eyes for a moment silently before nodding to himself. It seemed he was right in thinking this Arthur Kirkland was just a normal young wizard who had subconsciously shielded himself because of some events in his childhood. Nothing to worry about. But of course that was unlikely, all the more reason to hire him.

"Excuse me, professor, is everything quite alright?" Arthur said, looking at Dumbledore with concerned eyes "It's just that you have been silently staring at me for quite some time now." Albus blinked. Yes, he'd almost forgotten that his battle against Arthur's mind was with his subconscious therefore he wouldn't have been aware of anything that had just happened.

He gave the boy his warmest smile "Yes everything is fine, thank you, now as I was saying, why was it that you yourself did not go to Hogwarts?" Arthur seemed relieved to finally have something to talk about "Yes, well because of some argument centuries ago in my family line, I think it was something to do with two brothers being sorted into different houses, my family swore they would never set foot in Hogwarts again and they have done a mighty fine job of sticking to it. I myself think this is rather stupid, Hogwarts is such a large part of the maturing community and I don't want to have gone through life without having ever been here because of some old prejudice."

Dumbledore nodded as he heard the story "Quite. Now why did you choose to have a teaching role here and why Professor assistant?" He continued. Arthur resumed talking "Well, as I said, I wanted to be a part of Hogwarts and, though it is unfortunate I missed out on being a student, a teaching role would be remarkable too. I chose the role of professors assistant because, well, I do have a rather diverse range of skills and, being young, I would like to explore them. I also highly doubt I hold the wisdom to teach a single subject to an appropriate level to help students pass their OWLs and NEWTs. Me turning out to be a lousy teacher would be a bit of a put down for me but for the students, they won't be able to get that valuable learning time back. Also, I doubt students would respect me either. Who wants to be told what to do by someone who looks just a bit older than your class mates?"

Dumbledore nodded. The young man seemed to have a good thought process and he knew what he wanted. He also seemed polite and had an air of modesty about him that came from an impressive upbringing. All in all this mysteriously appearing man intrigued Dumbledore and he rather liked him already. There was one more thing he would ask. He hadn't planned on it and he may be pushing things but nevertheless he would ask "And lastly, Mr. Kirkland, what do you think of Voldemort's return?" For once in the entirety of the meeting Arthur looked scared "I think it is horrible but inevitable." He whispered, his voice did not wobble. Dumbledore nodded, he would not ask more on the subject. And he certainly did not plan on inviting this young stranger into his order of the Phoenix but it was nice to have another person believe he was not crazy.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Kirkland, and see you at the new school year," Dumbledore smiled at him "Professor."

As England left Dumbledore's office he let out a sigh of relief. That had gone okay, he thought. The man constantly assaulting his mental shields had rather exhausted him. Of course he would not have been able to get through them, after all England had thousands of years to have practiced in. But if Dumbledore had kept on pushing past the point he had gotten to then the man would have gotten suspicious that Arthur had not collapsed to the floor. So he had fed Dumbledore a few false thoughts, a thing it took wizards years and years of experience and training to even begin to execute. Hopefully the wizarding head teacher had bought it.

Albus had asked if he would like a method to transport back home directly from the school grounds but England had declined. He would walk into Hogsmeade and apparate from there. He wanted to appreciate the scenery, as it was rather spectacular. Dumbledore had given him a golden leaf that he held and it transported him to the far side of the lake, from which point he walked himself.

England turned around to admire the castle and its grounds. He really did love the place. Unknown to most people was the fact that Hogwarts and its grounds were actually a part of England. It was a complicated tale but that was one of the reasons apparation onto the grounds was near impossible. There were places like it all around the world, most placed there by England in his exploration days. It helped traveling between countries if for whatever reason nation hoping was not possible. It was an interesting concept to try to explain, a patch of land in the middle of Scotland that was not Scotland but in fact England. But imagine it like someone had taken a massive shovel and scooped the land that from England then dropped it in Scotland. Except of course that is not what happened and it involved a lot more magic and the fabric of the universe it's self but thinking of it that way was okay for now. He had nicknamed this process a land switch, since it sounded a lot more professional than saying 'thingy' or 'whatsit' whenever referring to it.

England had created this particular land switch back when he had been taken prisoner by Rome. It was a safe place where he could see his brother, Scotland, disputed everything that was going on around them. Of course back then there was no school or castle at all. It was just a forest. They used to lunch there with all the magical creatures. These little escapes spent with his brother whom he loved with his entire heart and the magical creatures he adored made his imprisonment more bearable. Of course when Rome had found out he was escaping back to Britannia he had not been happy.

Arthur shook away the flashbacks and continued to walk down the path. He felt the weird sensation as he left the barriers of Hogwarts and stepped onto his brother's land. It felt foreign but familiar too, since he had been raised here and spent a great deal of time here. He wondered if Alistor could sense that he was here. Probably not. He smiled peacefully at the serenity of the walk. It was so quiet. And his brother really did have such an amazing house.

As Arthur approached Hogsmeade he felt that buzz in the air that told him he was entering a magical community. Hogsmeade was alive and bustling, it was positively enchanting, especially since it was the summer. Perhaps she should not pass so hastily through the town and maybe stay a while, looking in the shops?

With a smile England entered Honeydukes. The shop was even more amazing than he remembered it, as the wizarding world advanced so, it seemed, did its sweets. He did not eat many sweets himself but they sold such exquisite things here one could scarcely resist. It was also an excellent place to buy gifts. With a pause in his stride England decided he should get Matthew, Alfred and Francis something as a thank you for taking care of him in the meeting.

Checking the shelves Arthur quickly located a gift for America. With a smile he retrieved a perpetual sweet vending machine. It was a small thing but turn the handle and whatever sweet you would like the most in that moment came out, even if you'd never heard of it before. As long as Alfred did not loose it the machine would hold an unlimited supply of sweets for him. Well, if it were to be dropped or neglected the machine could decide it didn't feel like giving anyone sweets for a while but it would still have the ability to.

For Canada he checked the shelves and stopped when he found something appropriate. It was a maple leaf shaped lolly pop, made of real maple syrup. Every time you licked it your tongue would change a different colour. It would, when finished, regrow itself and seal itself in a plastic cover ready to be opened once again. If you rubbed it on anything it would make it taste strongly of maple syrup for five minutes.

For France he went to the adult only section and as a joke grabbed another lolly pop, shaped like a dick and patterned with the Union Jack. Maybe if Francis had his own British dick he'd stay away from Arthur's, the man thought with a smirk. As well as this he got the man some champagne flavoured chocolate truffles, you could feel the bubbles popping in your mouth just like with real champagne.

For himself he grabbed a few chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's every flavoured beans and and a few rum flavoured chocolate galleons. Then he went to pay for them, with several assorted precious gem stones since he had not yet visited Gringots. Which is something he would have to do when he went to Diagon ally before the school term started.

With his bag of sweets in hand England went into the Three Broomsticks pub and inn. Since it was about lunch time, Arthur decided to stop by for a small meal. He took a seat at the bad, ignoring the odd looks he got, presumably for wearing muggle clothes. But the clothes he was wearing were not exactly modern, a waistcoat and shirt with a fob watch in his pocket and a coat over his arm therefore he drew less attention than he would if he had been wearing his skinny jeans and punk style shirts that he normally favoured when he wasn't at a meeting.

"May I have a bowl of chips and a pint of firewhisky fair lady?" He asked the bartender, who smiled at him. "Sure thing, sir. Can't remember the last time anyone called me 'fair lady' though, you can call me Rosmerta." She said, bewitching a few kitchen utensils to prepare his chips as she herself retrieved a pint glass and started filling it. "Ah, Rosmerta, Celtic goddess of abundance. You do the name justice." England purred, causing the woman to blush as she handed him the firewhisky "A classy line, I'll admit, but you're too young to be flirting with an old hag like me. I could be your mother!" England chuckled "Trust me, Rosmerta, I could easily be your grandfather." The woman let out a hearty laugh as she handed him his chips. A few of the other men in the pub seemed to be becoming a bit jealous of the attention Arthur was receiving.

But soon the other men found themselves taking a liking to things stranger in muggle attire as all in the pub started chatting, sharing stories, talking about sports, discussing dealing techniques and playing games as well as betting. It wasn't until a good hour or so latter that England left. Before leaving the town completely he went to Zonko's home shop and got himself a remarkable packed of cigarettes that blew coloured smoke that took different shapes of animals.

He went to the train station and decided to take the fast train to London (by which it meant the carriages were bewitched to make the day long journey half an hour). He sat in a carriage on his own while smoking his colourful cigarettes and eating his sweets, reading the muggle Quibbler.

The past few weeks had gone rather fast and England's time for teaching at Hogwarts was soon approaching. Knowing that he was no longer stuck in his repetitive life made the days and nights pass quickly and he began to feel the nerves of getting a new job. There were so many things that could go wrong! But it was certainly worth it to help with the on coming wizarding war. After all, it's not like he could be killed. If worst comes to worst he'd have to erase a few memories or maybe break free from Azkaban.

It was two week before the students would arrive at Hogwarts and England had better get his supplies. He mused that maybe he should have gotten his supplies as soon as his teaching job had been confirmed to avoid the big school shopping rush in Diagon ally. But then Diagon ally was always busy so it would not make much difference. Planning on going to the popular wizarding street today, England had dressed accordingly. Having not been close to his wizarding community in quite some time it had been hard to fish out any robes at all and the one he had found was rather outdated. Coming from the Elizabethan era the robe was detailed and elegant, made to express class and fortune. Yet a robe was a robe so he wore it anyway.

It would make a finer impression than if he were to wear his normal clothes, nowadays the wizarding community had become so prejudiced and self centred. While the muggle world had advanced, the wars causing advances in technology and their understanding and treatment of other human beings the wizarding world seemed to still be in the dark age. Perhaps England was destined to have to endure another war before they would start learning. The man shivered, hopefully it would not come to that. Arthur didn't think he could cope with another war.

He would probably meet several students while he was shopping. The previous day England had attempted to construct a shopping list however it was of no use, what he required wasn't specific and few like with any other job, he would need a great deal of things to help him in several occasions. So far he had decided he must get:

-new robes

-an owl

-several bottomless pouches

That was the very basics. He would need much more than just that, he couldn't even begin to get his mind around what he needed. England decided he would go to Gringots and get a rather large sum of money then get absolutely everything he could imagine had a potential to be useful he saw in each and every shop.

He had decided to bring as little from his actual home he could, limiting that to his wand and a few suitcases and a couple of 'muggle' suits just in case. It got rid of some of his feeling of paranoia and dread by just leaving everything and starting a new. It would reduce the chances that something, a random possession of sorts, will trigger the suspicion of anyone. If he bought everything from modern day Diagon ally surely no one could find any fault in it? With his wand tucked away in his pocket and his bags all shoved into his 'bigger on the inside' pocket too England set on his way.

Diagon ally was positively buzzing with people. Though some may find it stressful England found the sight amazing. So many people in the same place and they all seemed so merry, getting along with their days. The buzz of magic was rich in the air and, despite himself,, England smiled from ear to ear. "Right." He said aloud to himself "To Gringots we go!" He declared to no one in particular and started walking briskly towards the said wizarding bank.

England smiled up at the impressive building as he entered. To a newcomer the whole aura of the place may be intimidating but Gringots bank had been a part of England's life for quite some time and it had become familiar and welcoming to him. The very building itself seemed to smile in greeting to the Englishman as he entered.

Arthur walked up to a goblin that seemed not to be doing anything at that moment and said politely "May I go to vault zero please." The goblin glared intimidatingly up at England who didn't even blink under the gaze. The goblin took in the young wizard who was standing in front of him. He had bright green eyes, ruffled blonde hair and was wearing old fashioned wizarding robes that gave him an eccentric, if slightly impressive, look. "Sir, are you sure you have not mistaken your vault number?" He asked, not wanting to be instantly hostile towards the man without definite cause, even though it was his main job to protect people's treasures it did keep him out of trouble to be polite.

"Yes, it isn't really a forgettable number." Arthur said. Blast all, I didn't think I would be getting people suspicious this early! Yeah that's a great start, England thought. But then again, he had expected it since he did the best vault in the entire place. But what else would you expect from the country that owned it?

The goblin looked at Arthur irritably "Sir, I don't think you understand that vault zero is the first vault that Gringots ever had. It is prized above even the Hogwarts founders themselves and it was owned by a high classed nobleman from thousands of years ago and it has not been opened since his demise. So what claim could you possibly have to that vault?" England looked down at the goblin, a bemused look on his face which he quickly hid. It was always rather funny to him to hear others talk about him and how they did it. Sometimes they were not so kind with their words. But frankly, whether the goblin knew it or not, that was an exaggeration. England had accessed the vault often in the more recent past so it wasn't like the vault had been untouched for ages.

He quickly composed him self and got ready to lie through his teeth. England looked at the goblin a 'relieved' and 'understanding' look on his face "Ah yes, I see the confusion. I am a direct descendant of that nobleman, in fact he is the 'Arthur Kirkland the first' I am named after. Upon my eighteenth birthday five years ago I got given the key from my mother, who'd had it before me. Now here." He said handing the goblin his key. The key was plain. A simple wooden thing that seemed to be crudely carved by hand. The goblin eyed it incredulously "Are you trying to tell me that this is the key to the legendary vault zero?" Arthur looked at him with a straight face "Yes." The goblin sighed, seemingly fed up "Alright, thank you Mr Kirkland, let's go."

As they journeyed deep into the labyrinth of vaults England whistled a cheery tune, much to the annoyance of the goblin. Seeing this England stopped and decided to strike up conversation "So, what's your name?" Though England already knew that and a good deal about the goblin's life, being his country. "Drakux." The goblin, now dubbed 'Drakux', replied. Arthur smiled "Wow, like Drakux the bold? The ancient warrior goblin who freed the eastern goblins from Centaur enslavement?" Drakux looked up at him, surprised "Yeah, he's my great, great, great grandfather. Wizards don't normally know much about goblin history."

Arthur smiled again "Blimey, it looks like I'm not the only one who's descended from fame. So how are you liking your new job at Gringots?" England asked. Drakux looked up at him in suspicion, the slight warmth that had come into his face from Arthur's knowing some goblin history disappeared. "How do you know it's a new job?" He frowned. Arthur waved dismissively "Oh don't worry I just deduced it. You're not as formal and emotionless as most goblins who work here are. Also a goblin who has worked here for some time would be able to tell that my key was correct from holding it. And you would be less openly suspicious of me while I'm giving you the key but the moment my key didn't work or the vault rejected me as a traitor or something you'd have me fed to the dragons. You're a lot more friendly." Drakux looked at Arthur in surprise "You're an intuitive fellow, aren't you? Especially for a wizard."

The rest of the journey was made in silence, it was quite a distance since only the most important vaults had the top ten numbers and they had been made some time ago therefore were deep underground. But finally they got there. The vault was a impressive. A massive door that looked like it was pure gold closed it. There were intricate patterns littering the entire surface and gems of considerable value were worked casually into the patterns. Drakux's eyes widened in amazement, this was even better than what he thought it would be. Most definitely worthy of the vault zero position.

England stepped up to the vault, seemingly not affected by the looks at all. He pulled out the wooden key and, instead of putting it into the evident hey hole, placed it sidewards into a golden lions mouth. The lion then dropped the key back into his hand and let out a ground rumbling roar. All the patterns then began to move, snaking their way to the side as a doorway opened. "Come on." England motioned Drakux in, who had been watching the whole thing unravel in awe. The goblin nodded and stepped in.

The impressive exterior design paled in comparison to the inside. Countless treasures were scattered everywhere. And this was not limited to wizarding money, oh no, gems and jewels and precious metals were scattered across the entire place. There was gold stretching all the way to the wall and he couldn't see an inch of the floor since it was covered with treasures. Never before in his life had Drakux seen such beauty.

In a trance he lent down and was about to stuff his pockets when a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him "No." said Arthur sternly. Drakux looked frustrated for a moment before paling, he had just been about to steal! Arthur shook his head as he walked "I wouldn't mind if you took some stuff, I've got plenty enough. But this is sirens gold. Like leprechaun gold except a lot more sinister. It has lead many a pirate to their peril. This is merely a diversion to stop any theft."

Now when Drakux looked at the gold, as if a spell had been broken, he could see a dark aura radiating off every coin. They had mould growing on them and where dripping a foul liquid that seemed to melt the floor. Drakux recoiled in disgust and quickly followed Arthur.

In the mean time, England stepped carefully over the cursed gold and he made his way to a broken looking wooden door. It looked like the door to a run down caretakers' cupboard. The wood was splintering and chipped and had moss and fungus growing from it. Arthur pulled out the wooden key once again and put it in the key hole, turning it. In Drakux's opinion the door didn't look like it needed to be unlocked since it seemed as if laying a hand on it would cause the door to fall clean off its frame. "If one is to find themselves trapped within a treasure trove of sirens gold they can only see what is even more impressive than the last bit of treasure they saw. They would be incapable of registering this old door. He patted it "I find it much merrier than all that horrid gold anyway."

Stepping through the door, the pair found themselves in a simple wooden room. It looked like the inside of a log hut and when Drakux looked out the windows he expected to see dirt since they were under ground yet he saw water heavily bombarding the window, as if they were in the midst of a dreadful storm. There was a simple stone pedestal in the centre of the room and it looked as if it was the most valuable thing there. It was plain as if no one had bothered to cut a pattern into such cheap stone.

Arthur walked straight up to it and hit the palm of his hand against a jagged end of the stone with some force, a large cut formed in the centre of his palm making Drakux wince. Blood instantly started looking from it but Arthur seemed unfazed. He pressed the hand into the centre of the pedestal, the blood forming a deep red hand print, Arthur then pulled away and the blood bubbled to nothing upon the stone. In its place a small wooden box appear and England took out a little pouch from his pocket then opened the box.

Inside there were galleons stuffed to the brim and Arthur poured them into his pouch. The little wooden box seemed to have an unlimited supply of money as when Arthur put it back down it was as full as it had been to start with. Of course such a large sum of money would be impressive at any other time, but after having seen the siren hold and the door's decorations this seemed underwhelming to Drakux.

England could explain that this was just the room in which he held some of his wizarding money and that there were many more secrets around the original door, the sirens gold room and this very room itself that would unlock more rooms with more treasures but then he decided that knowledge was best kept to himself. Frankly his various treasure chambers at home where better stocked but he liked them at easy access. And no they weren't all the good he had stolen from Spain who had stolen it from others. His treasures were a lot more precious.

On the journey back Drakux looked rather dazed, not having been able to process the whole thing quite yet. He returned to his original work and started to wonder just what he had gotten himself into when he decided to continue in the family profession of working at Gringots.

Arthur himself was happy with the visit on a whole. It had gone a lot less disastrous as he had thought it would. It was always a good thing when you didn't have to escape razor sharp dragon teeth while dodging scalding flames. He also had a bag full of more galleons than most wizards would ever see in their life. That'd hopefully be enough to last him for the time being.

Deciding the whole bank experience had rather exhausted him England decided it would be wise to drop into the 'Rosa Lee teabag' teashop before continuing his shopping escapade. After all it wouldn't do for him to faint of exhaustion or something. Yes, it was only wise for him to have a cuppa.

With that thought England went into the quaint tea shop and ordered a pot of earl grey as well as some Scottish shortbread, which the kind lady in the store assured were really made in Scotland. Despite what everyone seemed to think, British isles cooking was not gross. With cultural differences around the world of course another countries will like their own food better and dislike others but English food was not gross. It tasted good, just like food in every country. Some countries will like it and some won't, just the same as they would with any other country's food in the world. And just the same as English people like and don't like the food of other countries. Personally though, no one could make short read quite as good as the Scottish so England sat happily in the pretty little garden of the tea shop as he sipped his tea and ate his biscuits, quietly watching the world go by.

 **PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES**

 **A/N: Okay so I've had a tumblr for a while but I've only recently started posting stuff. Currently I have a hetalia blog for all characters, ships and AUs. It is yanderekirklandhetaliastuff . Tumblr . Com So if any of you would like to check that out please do. It hasn't got much because it is an ask/request blog and I will post art when people request them. Request anything to do with the hetalia fandom and I shall do it. You don't need an account to post asks but if you want to you can request art on this fanfiction instead of the tumblr. ALSO I am going to be making a ASK ENGLAND blog. A drawn version not a cosplay. So if you have any asks put them in the reviews of this chapter until I have made the blog. So please, please, please check this out because I would really like some asks and requests since I think it is really fun to see what other people want and draw it! And of course thank you for reading this new chapter please favourite, follow and review if you liked it and want some more. Thank you ever so much. Bye ;3**


	3. Chapter 3

**THE YOUNGEST OLDEST PROFESSOR**

CHAPTER THREE: SHOPS, JOBS AND A NEW FRIEND

 **A/N: It's me again! Yay I can tell you're all so excited… humour me, okay? Let me just say THANK YOU! Wow, you guys are so amazing! So many of you favourited, followed and reviewed it makes my day every time. Thanks to everyone who read my story at all! Because you were all such wonderful people, I decided to quickly get this one finished. Are you happy? Hopefully you're happy ;-;. ENOUGH FROM ME YIU GUYS DON'T CARE LETS GET TO THE GOOD BITS. Enjoy :3…**

"Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions." England read aloud to himself. That was a rather ambiguous name, he mused to himself as he wondered how serious that title was. Arthur had a feeling that his job description and his personal likes would put this 'Madam Malkin' to the test.

England entered the door with a tinkling of the door's bell, announcing to the shops occupants that he had entered. Shortly after, a stout witch approached him, appearing from behind a shelf of loose sewing materials and decorations. England greeted the lady with a smile "Good day, my lady." He said with a bow, the witch, who seemed flattered to be treated in such a fashion, beamed up at him "And good day to you too." She smiled "Now what can I get you?" Arthur considered for a moment before continuing after a pause "Just how literally is the 'all occasions' in your shop title offered?" Madam Malkin laughed "I assure you that this shop is the finest robe shop in the entire wizarding world, if it can be done you will find it here, now what can I get you?"

Arthur nodded thoughtfully "Right, thank you. So do you have any robes that would maybe protect one's body from vicious maiming and extreme environments and possibly being set fire to?"Madam Malkin stared at him for a moment "I beg your pardon?" England continued "You see, I am about to take a rather trying job post and was wondering if I could get any extra security from the robes I wore, if it would not be too much of a trouble." The witch shook her head "I would most certainly like to help you, young man, but like I said 'if it can be done we will supply it' but I fear that cannot be done, you could find several charms that might help you though and there is a good book store down the road."

England nodded "Okay thank you for the help. Um well I am also in the need of some regular robes too." With a smile the robe making witch was back in her element. She rushed about England's body, making measurements and picking up materials, holding them close to him "So what type of robe would you like, my dear?" She inquired, as a sheet of green silk wrapped itself around Arthur's waist before retreating. Arthur purses his lips in consideration "Well I would like some regular every day robes, but I will be wearing them to school so they need to be smart. And I am quite partial to wearing extravagant clothes, often inspired by older fashion crazes. I like my robes to be fashionable and full of character."

He looked at her "I'm sorry, that seems a bit too much, doesn't it? I shall be fine with a plane green robe, I'm sure that'd be easier." Madam Malkin cut him of with a firm tutting "No that most certainly won't do. Such personality lacking robes are for second hand stores and budget robes shops, the bigger the better, I say, I shall take pride in finding you the perfect robes!" Arthur smiled, appreciatively "Why, thank you."

With a list of measurements Madam Malkin stepped back "Right, if you will sit for a moment I shall make some robes for you. Normally for my normal customers of children from Hogwarts they have standard school robes but since I am making yours specifically it will take a while. Though not long, five minutes at a maximum. By the way you have a lovely body shape for making designer robes." Arthur blushed "Thank you, my lady." He smiled, going to sit down by the door.

He watched the street outside as he waited. England smiled happily as he saw all the people walking on the streets. Couples walking hand in hand. Young children jumping up and down enthusiastically because of something they have seen in a shop window. There were lots of children walking around, presumably Hogwarts children getting their school supplies. England smiled, it really had been too long since he last spent time in his community, magic or not, like this.

"There you are, sir." At the sound of Madam Malkin's voice, England turned away from the street. "You can try them on now, if anything's not to your liking just tell me and I'll fix it for you." Arthur thanked her and took the robes. They ranged in colour but as a generalisation they were green, different shades, some bluey, some pale, some bright and obvious. The robes had intricate patterns embroider into the fabric and some had little gemstones of several colours worked into this or lining the hems. The materials themselves were beautiful, some made of silk, light and flowing, while others were made or more heavy fabrics, strong and powerful looking. The styles ranged, some where old fashion inspired, looking lavish and empowering, whilst others were modern fashion based, more out there and creative.

Arthur beamed at the lady "Thank you ever so much, they are perfect! And they fit like a charm, I absolutely love it." Madam Malkin blushed slightly and her face seemed to glow with pride. England smiled, she really was a rather lovely witch. "So how much do I owe you for these fine items?" He asked. "Fifty galleons." Madam Malkin replied. Arthur gasped, making Madam Malkin nervous for a second, thinking she should have made cheaper robes for the man or asked what money range he would be capable of paying. It's just that his particular robe choices and his lovely body shape was an opportunity in her robing career that she simple had to take, it would be such a waste to give him some dull, shapeless robes of plain black or the likes.

"Why, dear lady, I do not wish to rob you!" England said, causing the said witch to look at him in confusion. "Such fine robes are worth far more, at least let me give you one hundred galleons." He said, Madam Malkin's eyes widened "No, I couldn't possibly. Those robes are worth fifty, I would be the one robbing you to take double that!" In all honesty, the immense compliments this young man was giving her robes was more precious payment to her. It was nice to be appreciated rather than a lot of the witches and wizards who would just view her art as simple cloth to keep them warm and shelter them.

England smiled at her, handing the witch a sum of money "Well then, my dear, I shall better be off, though I much enjoy your company. I am quite fond of textiles myself, if you would be so kind as to agree to it I would love to join you in embroidery some time, and you could give me a tip or two." Madam Malkin smiled "Yes, of course, I would love to. Any time you're free just pop in, I will be here." As the young man left Madam Malkin had decided the odd encounter had made her day considerably brighter. She did not often enjoy the company of others that much, especially her customers, but there was something about that man that made his company really enjoyable and pleasant. Remembering the money in her hands she went to put it away but then found, with a start, that rather than giving her fifty golden galleons he had left one hundred and fifty galleons and a ruby and pear necklace. She shook her head and walked off chuckling.

While his mind was robe centric, England decided that he should get dress robes, you never know when you might need them. He decided he would get three proper dress robes then five smart looking and clearly valuable outfits to wear on the occasion that he may have to impress someone, perhaps on his first day? It'd be good to make an impression upon the whole school at one time. England browsed the street signs before focusing on one. 'Twilfitt and Tattings' yes, from his memory that would be a perfect shop.

Upon entering the shop England could already sense the change in atmosphere from Madam Malkin's proper but welcoming shop and this. The surfaces were all pristine and everything was a particular style and colour scheme. The place was almost empty apart from a few customers who were being quietly attended to in separate sections of the room. When he set foot inside everyone turned partially around to look at him then turned away, giving him an unimpressed look.

A tall, thin witch with a flowing gown beneath silvery black robes walked up to him, thorn like heels clacking loudly in the silence. She looked him up and down with an evaluating gaze then smiled thinly at him. England noticed the disapproving look she gave as she took in his tousled blonde hair and he looked at her own which was gelled perfectly in position. She looked in surprise at the rich attire he wore. England felt indignant at this blatant judge of his character and he felt the urge to once again wear the rich clothes he'd become so partial to in the past, he had only recently managed to get out of the habit and start wearing modernly accepted clothes. England held his head high and continued bearing in mind that he was of a higher class than this woman could ever even imagine.

"Welcome to Twilfitt and Tattings, the highest class of robe shops in the world, is there anything I can get you?" She asked, her self esteem and pride dripping from every syllable. He gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes and let go of his normal restraints and let his superior manner seep into his body language. The lady looked slightly startled at the transformation. "May I have two of your finest dress robes and five smart robes." He said.

The lady looked at him suspiciously, confused over whether to address him as a superior or scum that just happened to wonder into her shop. England chuckled to himself, that was much the same look that the rest of Europe gave him in his pirating days. "Any particular colours and styles, sir?" She asked. "Blacks and greens, please. I'd like your most expensive materials and cuts, thank you." The witch looked at him sceptically as if saying she doubted he could afford it.

England assumed that the lady was used to tending to older and more established people from well known wizarding families. Pureblood families, he thought in distaste. Of course he was a pureblood from the oldest wizarding family there was in the world but she wasn't to know that. Besides, back then there was not this petty prejudice against non magical folk, in fact, there were the days that magical men feared the non magical and looked up to them. Times changed and so did people, so no matter.

"Very good, sir." The lady said, tape measures and materials zipping about his form as the witch herself left to do some other business, leaving the implements themselves to make his clothes. England sighed, what a bitter contrast between this and that charming Madam Malkin.

After England saw that he had finished being measured and his clothes were starting to be made, he went to sit on an impressive black wooden chair, with thorns carved into the wood as if they were growing up the frame. England gasped softly as a slight shift of his body caused a thorn to cut his thigh, a trickle of blood falling into the chair. Such a health and safety hazard would never be allowed in the muggle world, Arthur huffed to himself.

Sitting stiffly in his chair, cautious against further injuring himself, England watched the room. In the corner various appliances and materials were slowly working on making his clothing. The witch that had attended to him had disappeared into some back rooms, probably having forgotten about Arthur already.

The shop was quiet, it had a harsh and cold aura to it. Apart from himself there were only a few other customers, one was a elegant looking witch with dark hair that fell just past her shoulders but had white streaks on either side. Her attendant talked to her with a smile and an air of respect so he assumed that this lady was a regular here, and of a known wizarding family. But of course England knew exactly who Mrs Malfoy was, more than anyone else in the world and maybe even herself, but that was how it was like with his people. England shook himself, he should really not do that, he made a mental note to train himself not to use that ability when he went to Hogwarts, it would be rather impolite to know everything about everyone he met.

Seeing the witch emerge again with some boxes, presumably his clothes, England stood up with a smile. "Thank you, my lady." She looked at him with a cold expression "That'd be…" before she had finished talking Arthur dumped a load of galleons and gold into her hands. She blanched and looked up at him in surprise. "Keep the change." England said, taking his robes and departing leaving the witch staring after him, stunned. Arthur chuckled to himself, he felt as if it would be a good idea to get people like that on his good side. Especially now.

One more robe shop, of course he didn't need so many but his lavish tendencies from the days of old had stayed with him, Alfred had teased him with an obviously impressed look upon occasions on how he seemed to have an endless supply of clothes for every occasion. But when you had so much money what would you spend it upon if not material possessions?

This final robe shop Arthur felt that he would like the most. 'Second hand robes' he read the sign as he entered with a smile. Once again this shop had a different feel to it than the other two. A much more friendly, warm feeling that made it homely. An overweight wizard with a merry smile and rosy cheeks emerged from behind a wrack of mismatched robes. "Why hello, my young man, welcome to second hand robes! Come in, come in, just look around as much as you'd like and come to me if anything g tickles your fancy. That wrack over there is one sickle per item and the lovely shelf behind you is three knuts per object" Arthur smiled "Thank you, kind sir, a lovely selection of robes you have here." He said before moving on to start looking.

After walking a single loop of the building, England had already picked four clothing items. He was rather happy with them since he could tell they were genuine 15th century wizarding noblemen's robes and he hadn't seen such things in a very long time. "May I have these, please?" Arthur asked the wizard who beamed at him "An excellent choice, young man, that'd be 4 sickles please!" Arthur shook his head "Heavens no, these are the nicest robes I've seen all day and I've just been to Madam Malkin's and Twilfitt and Tattings." The man smiled happily, as if it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him "Why thank you kindly, dear sir." Arthur scooped out a hand full of galleons and handed them to the man "Thank you." England said with a smile before leaving.

England walked up the street with a exasperated sigh, that's the easy stuff over. Now it was time to find all he could that would help equip him for his new teaching role. Nothing he could think of would make it easier so he decided to walking into every single shop, grabbing everything he could think of a use for. The process involved a lot of walking back and forth, scrutinising and impulsive judgement. He soon decided he was very happy he hadn't forgotten his bottomless pouch

At the end of the day England had purchased more things than he could name. Of course he had bought everything on the students' required list, it wouldn't do to have less than the people he was supposed to be teaching! Aside from that Arthur had an assortment of quick, hand held medical supplies such as blood slowing syrup, that temporarily made blood as thick as golden syrup so the person wouldn't lose too much blood awaiting proper medical assistance.

Arthur had ropes, ladders, pitchforks, pliers, thimbles, chair legs and that was barely even a single percent of what he had. On thing England's long life had taught him was how a situation can always be dealt with, but it's often a hell of a lot easier if you have come prepared. In the role of 'assistant professor' at Hogwarts school of witchcraft no less, there is not a single situation you can rule out, but one thing that's for sure is the fact that danger, whatever form it may take, will be present. And that is exactly what Arthur would tell anyone who asked why on Earth he had what he did if someone for some reason saw what he had stuffed into that bottomless pouch of his. Really, it was getting rather heavy.

'The Leaky Cauldron' was a fine pub and inn that any witch, wizard or squib in the British wizarding world had heard of. It had a notable history, a considerable reputation and was the most commonly used entrance to Diagon ally. Because of this, the place was full to the brim of people, a lot of whom were passing straight through. However, it was not uncomfortable and instead had a cozy, welcoming feeling.

Walking up to the counter with a bow of his head and 'good day' to anyone who said the same to him, England ordered a butter beer, feeling parched after what was a very full day. The bartender was a nice looking chap of the name of 'Tom', though name reading was a habit England really was trying to get out of.

"May I have a room, if there are any left, of course?" He asked Tom, with a smile. The man smiled back "Of course, sir, how long will we be having you?" He inquired. England pursed his lips "Oh, two weeks of that will do. Though, please let me help you by tending the bar and cleaning rooms and, well, anything I could do to be of service in the time I am here." Tom looked at him in surprise "No, no, you are our guest, sir, there is nothing you need do but sit back and relax." England waved his and dismissively "Oh no, I insist. Besides, two weeks is quite a while to be on ones self, I would take joy in helping." Tom smiled "In that case, thank you very kindly, sir, here is your room key, it's the second on the left, just up the stairs." The landowner and bartender handed England the keys, who took them with a thanks and departed.

His room was a comfortable one, it was simple and consisted of two rooms. In the biggest room at the centre stood a thick framed bed, drawers and desks surrounding it. A small bathroom came off the side of the room, it was clean and tidy. England chuckled his bags and possessions into a few of the draws before lying down with a sigh.

England closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face, he was tired, aye, but the day had been a good one. A smile twitched at the corners of England's lips as the reality of it all struck him. He was back in his magic community! And he was going to Hogwarts! Any threat of wizarding war was in the future and for now England just decided to enjoy the peaceful time he still had. He picked up a book from his side table and started to read.

As he served drinks to a few more merry faced wizards, Tom's thoughts wondered back to the peculiar wizard he had given a room to. Being the owner of The Leaky Cauldron meant that you saw a great deal of people, something about that wizard definitely put him up there. It was something about the way he held himself, the way he talked and the look in his eyes, not to mention his youthful age. Tom was used to young, ambitious wizards barely giving him a second glance but this young man decided to work for him! Tom briefly wondered how that would work, what exactly did he have in mind for doing? He shook his head and got back to working, he'd have to wait and see.

But as it turned out, Tom did not have to wait long. As he awoke the next morning he cursed, he had over slept and the witch who took the night shift must have left far earlier. He ran down to the pub counter, bracing himself for the waves of protest from impatient witches and wizards. To his surprise, instead of this he heard the sound of laughter. After blinking several times he took in the sight in front of him. The young wizard from the night before was standing behind the counter, clad in a cheap looking simple black robe with the sleeves rolled up and an apron. He was serving a group of middle aged witches butter beer as some pots and pans bubbled in the background, the smell of cooking bubbling around the room.

Upon seeing Tom enter, Arthur beamed "Ah, hello, Tom! I'm dreadfully sorry but I decided to start without you, I guessed you must be sleeping and didn't want to wake you, I hope it's alright." Tom gaped at him for a moment before realising he should respond "Y-yes, yes it's fine, brilliant actually. You really don't have to, though." Arthur waved his hand dismissively "No, no, like I've said, I want to. I'm just a volunteer, think of it as giving me work experience if it eases your conscience. Besides, everyone in a ship must heave their own weight!" He said, mopping the counter. Tom just nodded, it seemed the next couple of weeks would be a bit peculiar. A smile graced his lips, it seemed they would be a lot more enjoyable too.

"Now that you have all finally decided to behave like the countries you are, let's get to the subject of this meeting. Would anyone like to share their ideas on how to solve the world wide problem of global warming?" The authoritative voice of Germany filled the room. Everyone automatically swivelled to face in America's direction, preparing to either genuinely listen or pretend to be politely. The young nation just shrugged and shook his head, looking anxiously at an empty chair to his side. It was at that moment everyone realised that something was amiss, the shock of America not having anything to say making them realise that something is wrong.

"Where is mon petit Angleterre?" France voiced in an alarmed tone, causing the other nations in the room to mutter anxiously amongst themselves. "Yeah, where is he? Has anyone seen mum?" Australia asked, a small smirk etched in his face at the name that always drove guardian crazy but a deep concern was present in his eyes.

Canada watched his brother as if he was a faulty bomb that may blow up at any second. "I-I didn't think… he actually wouldn't be here." America muttered to himself, a scared look on his face. Canada placed w comforting hand on his twins shoulder "Alfred, it's okay. England is a strong man, he can take care of himself. Just because he's not here doesn't mean anything has happened to him." Although as he said the words, Canada couldn't deny the anxiety that was bubbling inside him as his thoughts went to his former guardian and the last time he'd seen him.

"W-when was the last time anyone has seen him?" New Zealand asked, green eyes looking around the cluster of people with wide eyes, almost as if he was pleading someone to prove that England was safe and all the worrying was for nothing. Canada bit his lip, knowing the answer but not wanting to be the one to voice it, but when no one else did it became inevitable "I think…" he started quietly, but no one payed him any notice or gave him any sign they knew he was there. He cleared his throat and started again, more confidently this time "I think I know." Everyone turned around to look at him, looks of surprise crossing their faces as they saw who was addressing them. With a slight blush Canada cleared his throat and continued "I-I… Well… has anyone seen him since last meeting? When he was hurt?"

France paled "M-Merde…" Canada could see in the man's eyes that he was thinking the same thing as himself. What if he had been hurt more than they'd originally thought? What if he hadn't recovered and was worse? What if in his vulnerable state someone had attacked him? What if he was simply taking a little time of work to recover and they were just over reacting. As the Canadian man's eyes looked around the room he could tell that everyone was coming up with theories along the same lines.

With a frown, Canada tried to fight the feeling that it was somehow his fault what had happened to England because he was the one who dared say it out loud "It's fine everyone, just calm down and we can simply cal-" "It's okay, dudes, no one needs to worry about Iggy because the hero is here!" And so quickly and easily the attention was taken from Canada, almost as if he didn't exist. Matthew didn't mind, though, he was just glad that his brother had recovered enough from discovering England missing to be his boisterous self again.

"So, yeah Iggy may be missing but we can't lose our heads over this! Artie needs us, from what I can tell he's in grave danger! This is a bigger issue than any of you could possibly begin to process but don't worry, the hero is here to tell you! I have reason to believe that Iggy has been taken," Alfred looked gravely around the meeting room "By aliens." Canada face palmed, although honestly he wasn't that surprised. "Now I know what you're all thinking!" America raised his voice above the inevitable chatter that the statement had brought "Aliens! We all have to panic, there's no way we could be heroic enough to face aliens! Where would we start? Now don't worry, I have a plan. So everyone interested in helping me save Iggy from the aliens, follow me now!" With that, the teenage nation departed, a determined look on his face. Instantly a hand full of nations followed him.

Canada turned to those who remained, notedly the more sensible amongst them. "Just follow him, I have some ideas that may actually help in finding Arthur. At least this will gather a group of people who are interested in helping England, whether it be from erm…aliens or not, it's a start."

As time went by, Arthur Kirkland became almost a part of the family that was the Leaky Cauldron. All the fellow guests and workers had become accustomed to seeing his smiling face when they came to the bar upon waking and the last thing they saw when departing. He was quite popular, and Diagon ally regulars where starting to recognise him, greeting him with a cheery 'Good day, Arthur!' or something along the lines every time they passed through.

To Tom's delight sales seemed to be raising too, everyone who talked to the new waiter and had tender seemed to want to come back to talk some more, he had the most charming aura. But of course Tom did not just keep Arthur around for good sales, no he had become quite fond of the man, he should be sorry when he would have to depart.

Today, the young Mr Kirkland, after cleaning tables from the night shift declared he would be going to Diagon ally for a short while that day. Tom smiled and hid him fare well as he watched the man leave. I dare say there will be several disappointed young female customers in the time he's gone, Tom mused to himself, chuckling.

England's fingers subconsciously fiddled with the little mass of wood in his pocket. It had been some time since he had been in a situation that required him to use a wand and he'd decided that it would be best for him to get his wand checked properly, just to make sure nothing unexpected happened when he tried to use it at Hogwarts. Normally Arthur didn't use his wand, it was a bit of a hassle when he could easily enough do whatever magic he wanted without having to hunt down his wand and remember what words the spells required and how to pronounce them. But, of course, he did know how to use a wand, very well in fact, anyone would if they'd had thousands of years of experience under their sleeve. He was a bit rusty, no doubt, but once he got used to it, England presumed that he would get into the swing of things easily.

And so he made his way to Ollivanders, a place which until then he had stayed well away from. Ollivander was old and there was every risk that he'd be able to recognise England from some way or another, making recurring visits over the century would not help matters. The Ollivander family line were always a risk to nation personification secrecy but luckily they were a good family, hardly a dark wizard in the lot.

Seeing the old sign hanging above the time wearied building made England smile, he turned into the shop causing the door chimes to jingle. Arthur let his eyes scan the interior of the building. It was full from wall to wall with wand boxes and tending equipment. There were shelves upon shelves and he knew each contained a completely unique wand. England closed his eyes for a moment, smiling, the buzz of magic was rich in the air. Oh how he'd missed all this.

"Why, hello there. You look a bit old to be looking for a wand, but I do not recall ever giving you one of my own. Are you here for a repairal?" An old man emerged from behind a stack of boxes, his eyes scanning over Arthur as if he were reading a book. Arthur smiled at him "Of sorts, yes. I am starting a new job and I wanted to make sure that my wand is up to scratch."

Ollivander nodded "May I have a look at your wand?" England promptly handed it over. The white haired man frowned "Very strange, very strange indeed. 13 inches, marble-pearl fusion coating of sorts, softer interior, gold by my guess. A triplet core consisting of… well the heart string of some fire based creature of which I have not encountered, a hair of some magical origin and what appears to be a clipping of the main of a magical breed of lion. A diamond star on the to, perhaps to ease channeling of magic? Well, you certainly have a unique wand, may I ask who the maker was?" Olivander looked at England with mildly suspicious eyes.

It took Arthur only a fraction of a second to let a cheery smile fill his face. "I would tell you if I knew! This wand has been passed thorough my family for generations, actually five wands have. When a child of my family line is born they see which of the wands best fits them and it is then their possession.

I'm not surprised you don't recognise the animals the core is made of, they probably no longer exist. As for the hair, it's my ancestor, we call her Mother Britannia because she was from the Celtic days and it's as far back as we can trace the family line. I'm Arthur Kirkland by the way. My family is the oldest pureblood family recorded, though we are a bit hermit-y. I've decided to change that tradition and actually go into the wizarding world. I must say I'm enjoying it so far!"

Ollivander nodded, accepting this whole explanation, if suspiciously "Well then, Mr Kirkland, your wand has been kept in excellent condition. I will just keep a hold of it to do some minor repairs and cleaning, I'll take about half an hour. You may leave and come back later if you so wish." Arthur smiled "Thank you, Mr Ollivander!" He said, waving as he departed.

Wondering the streets of Diagon ally was a lot less stressful when you didn't have thousands of things to buy and do in general. Now that Arthur had gotten all of the necessary stuff out of the way he could truly admire the whole scenery. With a little skip and hum he made his way to 'Magical Menagerie'. Upon extensive thought, England had come to the conclusion that he really should get his own owl. He couldn't keep on conjuring owls out of thin air whenever he needed one and using school owls was slow, unreliable and could potentially be an information leak.

England smiled as he entered the store, he always had loved animals. Arthur had to resist the impulsive urge to boy every single thing the store had to offer. No, he said firmly to himself. An owl was a necessity of wizarding life but other than that he could not afford to have another cute little being to look after since he would struggle to look after himself enough.

Walking past all the other animals, England headed directly to the owls. The owls all stared at Arthur intently and Arthur looked back in a fashion not unlike their own. He hummed, it always was hard to choose. A kindly witch came up behind him "Looking for an owl, sir? Can't go wrong with this lot, we have a lovely bunch here. Except for that one, he's a right case. Nip the fingers off anyone who touches him, he will! I know he looks a charmer but trust me, it's all an act. Don't underestimate, I say, it's always the cute, vulnerable looking ones."

Arthur looked towards the direction the witch had gestured with curiosity, the witch herself had gone back to do some work behind the till. England scanned the area for this mysterious owl. At first he did not see an owl, just a pile of fluffy white feathers. However, England spotted a little twitch, looking closer he saw that it was a wing unfolding and clapping a couple of times before curling back up. The bundle of feathers straightened up slightly and peered up at Arthur with wide, startled looking eyes. A tiny beak, barely a centimetre in size, opened and the creature made a loud noise that was somewhere between the fry of an eagle and a squeaky toy.

Arthur giggled and attempted to stroke the little thing which instantly made the cry again and snapped at his fingers, looking slightly confused to find its beak empty and Arthur's fingers just a few centimetres in front of him. He made his little battle cry again and scuffled after Arthur fingers, which moved quickly around the cage. The little game carried on for several minutes before the bird dramatically collapsed in the middle of the cage, legs up in the air. England chuckled "Such a drama queen. I like you, little thing." He said, scratching the ball of fuzz behind its head. It curled up softly in Arthur's hands, making a content 'caw'. Arthur smiled, it looked like a little snow ball!

Picking up the cage, Arthur brought it to the counter "Hello, I've decided on this one." The witch looked at it in surprise "Are you sure? It's not the best mannered bird there is." England smiled politely and shook his head "No, I want none other than this." The witch nodded and stated a price which England happily payed.

England then departed through the doors which made a small tinkling noise. He looked down at the little bird who looked directly back at him with wide, startled grey eyes. "Well then, little guy, it looks like you're stuck with me. What should I call you? Hm, how about 'dragon'? Do you like that? You look like a dragon kinda guy to me. The soul of a dragon, no mere body can contain or define your spirit!" He giggled. The little bird cooed happily in consent to the name causing England to beam "Well then, Dragon, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

 **A/N: And so another chapter comes to a close. Ai crai. The pain is real. WELL favourite and follow if you like my story. Review if you want to stop me from procrastinating and/or you think it's worth it. UNTIL NEXT TIME. BYESIES**!


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